Blind But Not As A Bat
by Androgene
Summary: What if there lived a blind Sentinel? Completed a few yrs back. Was formerly under Cyberoid13


Name : Lee Sterling aka Cyberoid13  
Title: Blind, But Not as a Bat  
Category: Drama  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: All 'The Sentinel' characters belong to Pet Fly Production and  
Paramount. I'm just borrowing them for some good clean fun, so please do not  
sue me.  
  
Synopsis: Quite simply - what if there lived a blind Sentinel?  
  
* * *  
  
It was a rainy and chilly night, the type that made snuggling under a thick  
blanket an appealing temptation, but David Street was nowhere near his bed, or  
even his rented apartment. He was at Rainier Park, a small and peaceful land  
of shaded greenery in a quiet corner of the campus that afforded students  
privacy in an otherwise public education institute. And he had been there for  
the past fifteen minutes.  
  
David Street squinted at the luminescent face of his watch. It was five to  
twelve. Fifteen minutes past the appointed time. David hoped that everything  
would go according to plan. Sighing, he began to pace in his impatience. He  
was beginning to feel the chill of the rain; his windbreaker did nothing to  
prevent the cold from seeping through and into his body. He wished that he was  
anywhere else but here, in the poorly lit park that would have been romantic  
under different circumstances.  
  
The crack of a twig breaking broke the silence of the night. David jumped,  
startled and nervous. In the dead of the night, the twig snapping had sounded  
like a gun going off. He squinted into the black night, trying to see who was  
there. He licked his suddenly dry lips; he could feel someone out there  
watching him.  
  
"Hello?" he whispered hoarsely.  
  
There was no reply. He looked hard into the darkness, trying to decide if  
there was really someone there, or was his imagination playing tricks on him.  
  
"Who's there?" he tried again in a louder voice.  
  
So intent he was at discerning the black shadows before him that he failed to  
register the presence behind him until he felt the brush of sharp coldness  
across his throat.  
  
* * *  
  
Detective Jim Ellison was sleeping soundly when the phone rang. Unwilling to  
answer the call, he buried his head under not one but two pillows, praying  
that the caller would just go away. He had a long and exhausting day, and he  
had got home about two in the morning.  
  
But the ringing went on.  
  
Even by muffling his ears with two pillows, he could still hear the insistent  
ringing very clearly. In the dead of the night, the sound grated against his  
nerves. In the end, he gave up. Flipping onto his bare back with an effort, he  
opened ice-blue eyes bleary with sleep and looked at his alarm clock.  
  
Four a.m.  
  
Damn.  
  
Flipping back the covers, he got out of his bed, wearing nothing but his  
chequered boxers, and stomped downstairs to answer the call. He grabbed the  
cordless phone, just as he saw his Guide and roommate, Blair Sandburg, opening  
the door of his bedroom. The young Anthropology grad student was wearing  
sweats and pants, and he was rubbing the sleep from his sapphire blue eyes.  
  
"Ellison," he barked into the phone.  
  
Blair remained standing at the doorway of his bedroom, watching as his  
Sentinel listened to whoever had called. From beneath sleep-tousled mop of  
long tangled dark curls, he watched as Jim's face softened for an instant,  
then hardened again. Blair recognised the look: the detective was being called  
to investigate a new case.  
  
"Who was it, Jim?" he asked the moment the older man hung up.  
  
"Suzanne Tomaki. Get dressed, Chief. There has been a murder on the campus."  
  
* * *  
  
Blair straightened as Jim's blue Ford Expedition truck slowed to a halt just  
beyond the police line, and stared out of the front window.  
  
The well-kept park was cornered off by a garish yellow police line and huge  
floodlights cast the area in pseudo daylight for the forensics picking the  
place clean of evidence. All around, surrounding the park, were police cars  
with flashing headlights and an ambulance on the standby. There were some  
curious students gawking behind the police line, probably awakened by all the  
commotion in the early hours of morning.  
  
"Rainier Park?" he exclaimed. "The murder is in Rainier Park?!"  
  
Jim gave his Guide a curious sidelong glance. "Is there something I should  
know about this park, Chief?"  
  
"It's a lover's hangout, man. Has been for years." Blair raked a hand through  
the thick curls that tumbled to his shoulders in disarray. "This is where I  
met Jacqueline."  
  
"Who's Jacqueline?" There was an undercurrent of amused curiosity in Jim's  
question.  
  
"Someone whom I met before I hooked up with you. And it was during daytime,"  
Blair protested good-humouredly when he saw Jim's disbelieving expression.  
  
"All right, all right." Jim raised his hands in mock surrender. He turned off  
the ignition and pulled on his black Jag cap. "Put something on your head,  
Chief. It's still drizzling out there."  
  
"Don't be such a mother hen, Jim." Blair replied as he unbuckled his seat  
belt. "I've been taking care of myself since I was a kid."  
  
Jim rolled his eyes as he got out of his truck. "You are still a kid," he  
muttered.  
  
"What's that?" Blair asked from the other side of the truck.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Together, the detective and his partner proceeded to the murder scene. Jim's  
badge easily got them past the police line. Once inside the murder scene, the  
detective scanned the area rapidly for the body.  
  
"Jim!"  
  
They turned at the sound of Suzanne Tomaki's voice. She wore the campus police  
uniform and a thick jacket. Being the head of the campus police, her concern  
over a murder on her turf was evident as she walked briskly over to them.  
  
"Glad you could come, Jim, Blair. The murder scene is this way." She escorted  
them through the well-kept park.   
  
"So what happened here?" Jim asked.  
  
"Someone got his throat cut," Suzanne replied quietly.  
  
Blair winced.  
  
"Who called in the murder?"  
  
"A student. When we got here, we found her hugging the dead victim in her  
arms. She was grief-stricken and refused to let go. We had to call in a campus  
counsellor. Even then, it took us half hour to coax her to relinquish her  
hold."  
  
"What's her name?"  
  
"Sara Chang."  
  
Blair stopped in mid stride. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes. We got her name off her University ID pass."  
  
"Oh man, this sucks. This really sucks." Blair raked his hands through his  
hair, dismayed at the news.  
  
"What does, Chief?"  
  
"The dead victim is David Street, am I right?"  
  
Suzanne looked amazed. "Yes, Sara positively identified the victim. How did  
you know?"  
  
"It makes sense. Everyone knows that they're a couple. They are so in love  
with each other, that if anything happens to one of them, the other will be  
affected as well. This has got to be killing Sara."  
  
"Is she in any condition to help us?" Jim asked.  
  
"She's shell-shocked. The campus counsellor is talking to her, but..." Suzanne  
shrugged helplessly.  
  
"Poor thing," Blair sighed.  
  
"I agree."  
  
Something about Jim's tone of voice caught Blair's full attention and he was  
about to ask when he saw the body sprawled on the grass with the head at an  
unnatural angle and a deep bloody gash at the throat.  
  
Blair turned a sickly shade of green and he averted his eyes quickly from the  
scene. He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep the bile down. Jim  
heard his heart accelerated and looked at him in concern.  
  
"Why don't you wait outside the park, Chief?"  
  
"No, I'm all right." Blair replied quickly. He took a deep breath, still  
averting his eyes away from the body. "Just not used to seeing someone I know..."  
he gestured, unable to bring himself to say it.  
  
Jim understood though. "Just hang in there, okay?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Jim and Suzanne approached the body, while Blair hung a way back. He could not  
bring himself to even look at the dead victim without his stomach heaving  
queasily.  
  
"Serena, what have you got?" Jim asked by way of greeting to the black woman  
examining the body.  
  
"So far, not much. All I can say is whoever did this took him by surprise,"  
Serena replied, pausing in her work. "He didn't have a chance to retaliate at  
all. "  
  
Blair shook his head. "This is sick," he said agitatedly. "Why would anyone  
want to kill David? He was the most likeable guy on the campus!"  
  
"That's what we're here to find out," Jim answered. "Chief, how well do you  
know David?"  
  
"He's a student in one of the classes I'm teaching. Very enthusiastic and we  
share quite a number of common interests."  
  
"Any clues as to why he and Sara were out here in the middle of the night?"  
  
"No. In fact, David and Sara didn't like coming to this park. They thinks it's  
too public and not much of a haven. If they wanted to go somewhere quiet and  
near nature, they would have gone camping."  
  
"Camping?" Suzanne looked quizzical. "But isn't Sara blind?"  
  
"That doesn't mean she can't enjoy the change of scenery." Then Blair noticed  
Jim's shift of attention. He recognised the sign well. The detective was  
focusing on something with his sight. "What is it, Jim?"  
  
"I think I found something. Serena, hand me a tweezers, will you?"  
  
Curious, Serena passed over the slim tool. They all watched as Jim probed the  
blood-soaked grass at the edge of the body. Only Blair knew that Jim's Sentinel  
sight had spotted something that a person with ordinary sight would have  
missed.  
  
Jim carefully lifted a single strand of hair from the grass. It was stained  
with so much blood that it all but blended into the blood-soaked grass.  
  
"Here, bag this." Jim passed the evidence to Serena. "I have a feeling that it  
belonged to the murderer."  
  
Serena mentally shook her head as she quickly bagged and tagged the evidence.  
She could never figure out just how Jim seemed to pull evidence from out of  
the blue.  
  
"Anything else that I might have missed?" she asked.  
  
Jim shook his head, turning away from the glare of the floodlight. He quickly  
turned his sight dial down before he was blinded by the light. Then he smelled  
something, much to his surprise. The persistent drizzle had more than enough  
time to wash away any scents even before he arrived. But his Sentinel sense of  
smell picked up the faint, almost invisible pungent scent.  
  
Rising to his feet, Jim discreetly sniffed the air, memorising the scent and  
where it led to. Blair, recognising his stance, gingerly walked around the  
body towards him. Forgetting his discomfort about the dead victim, he  
unconsciously slipped into his Guide mode.  
  
"What is it you smell?" he asked.  
  
"Ammonia," Jim murmured. "It's almost all washed away by the rain, but I think  
I can still track it."  
  
"Okay," Blair said in his Guide voice. "Piggyback your smell on your sight,  
like I taught you. I don't want you to zone out here in public." He waited for  
a moment. "Got it?"  
  
"Yeah," Jim replied softly. "It leads over there."  
  
Suzanne watched in curiosity as they headed off in one particular direction.  
"Jim?"  
  
"Just give us a minute," Blair answered quickly. "Jim's following one of his  
hunches."  
  
Focusing almost completely on the ammoniac scent, letting his sight run  
interference to prevent a zone-out, Jim walked off deeper into the park. Blair  
was by his side every step of the way, watching carefully, ready to pull him  
back if necessary.  
  
Jim spotted the faint trail leading off in the same direction he was following  
the ammoniac scent. It was clear to him that the murderer had came this way.  
He was obviously someone who possessed a certain level of skill at hiding his  
own tracks through the foliage, but not good enough to fool a Sentinel.  
  
The sky was the colour of pearly grey when they finally emerged on the opposite  
side of Rainier Park. It would be dawn soon, but the sun would not shine through  
the overcast sky today. The drizzle that had persisted through the night showed  
no sign of abating at all.  
  
It was going to be another cold and windy day, Blair thought ruefully as they  
emerged from among the trees.  
  
Jim stood on the road, looking both ways. "The trail ends here, Chief. Whoever  
it was probably got into a car and drove away."  
  
Blair's face fell. "I don't suppose anyone got a good look of the car."  
  
"Maybe Suzanne can help us out. She can spread the word around the campus." Jim  
pulled his cap lower over his head. "Come on, Chief. I want to ask Suzanne where  
this Sara is."  
  
* * *  
  
It was almost seven when they finally managed to leave the murder scene.  
Suzanne had directed them to the campus clinic where Sara was, under the  
watchful eyes of a Cascade uniform and a campus counsellor.  
  
"So tell me, Chief, just who this David Street is?" Jim asked as he drove his  
truck across the campus towards the clinic.  
  
"He's originally from Maine and has been around the world, though he has  
settled in Cascade five years ago. He's majoring in culture anthropology.  
Right now, he's researching on the Falashas of Ethiopia."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The Falashas, native black Jews of Ethiopia."  
  
Jim gave him an incredulous look. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"No. The Falashas is indigenous to Ethiopia. Their stories say that they were  
converted to ancient Judaism of the Old Testaments by the son of King Solomon  
and Queen Sheba in the pre-Christianity era. The Falashas are almost dying out  
as a race. Last I heard, the Israelite government were aiding them in migrating  
to Israel. David is," Blair stopped and corrected himself deliberately,"was doing  
a thesis on how the Falashas, with their archaic and outdated worshipping  
ways, adjust to life in modern-day Israel."  
  
Blair raked a hand through his loose hair. "David is very brilliant and  
enthusiastic about his work. He's also friendly, outgoing, handsome, helpful  
to a fault and generally the most popular guy on the campus. Everyone likes  
him."  
  
"So he doesn't have any enemies?"  
  
"Not that I know of."  
  
"What about Sara Chang?"  
  
"She's a law student, about a year older than David. Her dream was to become  
a D.A. Her grandparents were emigrants from Hong Kong, but she was born and  
grew up in Cascade. Very pretty, but unlike David, she's quiet and reserved -  
almost cold at times, tends to be very protective and territorial. Almost like  
you, big guy."  
  
"Sounds like they are as different as day and night," Jim remarked, ignoring  
the jibe. "How did she become blind?"  
  
"She never did say. All I know is she has been blind since she was ten." Blair  
fell silent, remembering, and a fond smile curved his lips. "They were the  
perfect couple, you know? The kind that complement each other in every way,  
like two halves of a soul, two hearts that beat as one. They are so in love  
that it's almost scary."  
  
Blair shook his head, staring out of the window at the drizzling sky. "God  
knows what she would do. How would you react if the one you loved dearly  
died?"  
  
"Either go insane or die," Jim said simply.  
  
Blair took a double take and stared at him for a long moment.  
  
"What?" Jim asked, noticing his reaction.  
  
"You don't really mean that, do you?" Blair asked finally.  
  
"Sure I do." Then realising how that sound, he explained to his stunned  
roommate. "I don't love you that way, Chief. But yeah, I love you like a  
brother, best friend and bond-mate. So every time something happens to you,  
it scares the hell out of me. And that's just scratching the surface."  
  
Blair was silent for a long moment, digesting the piece of revelation Jim just  
dropped into his lap. Jim was getting a bit uncomfortable with the silence  
when Blair finally found his voice.  
  
"You really mean that?"  
  
"Yeah," the detective sighed.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Look, Sandburg," Jim began gruffly. "If I have to repeat myself one more  
time-"  
  
"All right, all right, I get the picture." Blair hurriedly raised his hands  
in mock surrender, but his broad grin threatened to split his face.  
  
Jim pulled his truck into am empty parking lot in front of the campus clinic.  
There was a Cascade police car parked there as well, and the clinic's lights  
were on. Together, Sentinel and Guide made their way into the brick-walled  
clinic.  
  
The Cascade uniformed cop stood outside the private consultation room, sitting  
on a chair and drinking from a cup of coffee. He stood when they approached.  
"Detective Ellison."  
  
"Officer Riley," Jim greeted. "Are they still in there?"  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
Jim pushed open the door and entered, with Blair close behind him. The private  
consultation room was surprisingly cosy, not at all like the sterile room  
doctors seemed to use. The curtains were drawn across the windows, and the room  
was cast in soft light. The detective directed his attention to the two  
women within, one of which Jim had no trouble recognising as Sara Chang.  
  
The Chinese woman was huddled in an armchair, hugging her legs tightly against  
her body. She appeared to be in her early twenties, and looked so small and  
lost in the huge armchair. She wore an oversized sweater and blue jeans; her  
sneakers were muddy. Her shoulder-length black hair was damp and the tousled  
waves framed a pale face. It was clear to Jim that she was still shell-shocked.  
Her expression remained catatonic; her sightless eyes blank with grief. She  
rocked to and fro, oblivious to the world around her.  
  
Then he stopped and stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. There was a  
bat hanging from the lamp-stand behind Sara. A big bat. Jim blinked and looked  
again, but the bat was gone. Startled, he darted a look at Blair, wondering if  
his Guide had seen the mammal. But the compassion on Blair's face indicated  
that he was fully concentrating on the people in the room.  
  
"Oh man," Blair whispered, saddened by the sight.  
  
The campus counsellor looked up when they entered. Giving her charge one last  
glance, she rose and approached them. She was middle-aged, with a kindly face.  
She had the appearance of one roused hurriedly from her bed in the middle of  
the night. Her face was full of empathy and sadness.  
  
"Blair," she greeted. "I didn't expect to see you here."  
  
"We heard about the murder, Leslie." Blair replied softly. "This is Detective  
Jim Ellison. He's in charge of the case. Jim, this is Leslie Callaway,  
Rainier's senior campus counsellor. How's Sara?"  
  
Leslie glanced back at the catatonic woman and sighed. "I'm not reaching her,  
Blair. And I can reach almost anyone. I'm worried."  
  
"Why don't you let me try, Leslie? Maybe she will react to a familiar  
presence."  
  
"Why not?" Leslie smiled. "You always have a way with people."  
  
They watched as Blair approached Sara. Taking Leslie's seat, he gazed at her  
catatonic expression and was struck by just much her expression resembled Jim's  
whenever he had a zone-out. Resting his elbows on his thighs, Blair leaned  
forward and began talking to her in his calm soothing Guide voice that always  
seemed to work on his roommate.  
  
Jim leaned against the wall, willing to wait for as long as Blair needed to  
work his magic on Sara. Beside him, Leslie watched intently as well. Blair was  
still talking to Sara after forty-five minutes when Jim's cell phone rang.  
  
"Ellison."  
  
"Jim, it's Simon. I heard about the murder at the University. Is Sandburg all  
right?" Captain Simon Banks' voice came over his cell phone, thick with  
concern.  
  
"Yeah, he's fine. It's one of his students who got murdered. We got a witness,  
but she's catatonic."  
  
"How Sandburg is dealing with all these?"  
  
"He's saddened and angered by the murder, yes, but otherwise all right." From  
the corner of his eyes, he saw a slowing in Sara's rocking. And he could hear  
Blair's heartbeat increased ever so slightly with excitement. "Uh, Simon, I'll  
call you back soon. Blair has finally managed to reach our witness."  
  
"All right. Oh, tell Sandburg someone left a parcel for him here at the  
station this morning."  
  
"Any idea who is it?"  
  
"No," Simon groused. "And while you are at it, tell him that the station isn't  
his private post office."  
  
"Simon, isn't it too early in the morning to be grouchy?" Jim deadpanned.  
  
"Ha-ha," Simon said flatly. "Keep me informed, Jim."  
  
"Will do, sir."  
  
Jim closed his cell phone and tucked it back into his pocket, never taking his  
eyes off Sara. She had stopped rocking and was looking at Blair despite being  
blind. Blair was holding her hands, talking earnestly to her in that same  
soothing voice Jim knew so well. The detective turned up his hearing to monitor  
her vital signs. Her heartbeat was racing and her respiration shallow. He noted  
the slight trembling in her slight frame, and the tears that poured down her  
face. Then he heard the tiny sob that escaped her, and Blair seemed to take  
that as his cue. The Anthropologist shifted from his chair to hers and wrapped  
her in his arms.  
  
It was at that precise moment Sara broke down. She clung to him like he was  
her lifeline. A low keening moan of pure anguish escaped from her, like the  
cry of some animal in unspeakable pain. Blair did not say anything. He simply  
held her tightly in his arms, making soothing noises under his breath, as her  
tears came in torrents.  
  
"I think he missed his true calling," Leslie murmured.  
  
"I think so too." Jim glanced at the counsellor and saw her exhausted  
appearance. "Why don't you head home and crash for a while, Mrs Callaway? I'm  
sure Sandburg can handle this. No offence."  
  
"None taken, Detective." Leslie smiled almost ruefully. "In fact, I was just  
thinking to myself he's better at this than I was at his age." She sighed and  
took his coat from the coat-stand. "Tell Blair I'll be in touch, Detective.  
And don't leave her alone even for a moment, for God's sake."  
  
"Drive safely, Mrs Callaway."  
  
"Don't worry about me, Detective." Leslie's kind face hardened for a moment.  
"Just catch the bastard who did this to them. David and Sara don't deserve  
this."  
  
* * *  
  
It was a long while before Sara's heart-wrenching tears ceased. The front of  
Blair's plaid shirt was damp with her tears, and she was limp in his arms. His  
right leg was cramping big time, but he ignored the discomfort and continued  
his soothing ministrations. He looked up when Jim approached them with two  
paper bags.  
  
"Riley got these for us," the detective said quietly. "Coffee and croissants.  
Figured the both of you might need it."  
  
"Thanks, Jim."  
  
The detective studied Sara's face resting against Blair's chest as he took a  
cup of coffee from one of the paper bags. She had a fistful of his Guide's  
sleeve in a death grip. The expression on her face was one of absolute  
desolation and despair. She did not resist or offer to help as Blair carefully  
propped her upright in the armchair.  
  
"I bet you're hungry," he said. "And I'll bet that some coffee will feel real  
good right about now. What do you say, Jim?"  
  
"Great idea, Chief." Jim put on his friendliest smile, even though he knew  
damned well that she couldn't see it, and carefully wrapped her unresisting  
fingers about the hot cup. "Careful. It's hot."  
  
Blair clasped his hands over hers and guided the cup to her mouth. She sipped  
the coffee mechanically, unaware even if she has scaled her tongue in the  
process. It was as though she had died as well, Jim thought with a chill.  
  
"Sara?" the detective said in a gentle but firm voice. "I'm Detective Jim  
Ellison from Cascade PD. I'm here to help you, but I can't do that unless you  
help me. Whoever killed David is still out there. I need you to help me find  
the murderer."  
  
There was no response from the grieving Sara.  
  
"It's okay if you don't feel like talking right now. But Blair and I will be  
here when you need someone to talk to."  
  
"It's my birthday," Sara said haltingly, in a voice so soft that even Jim had  
to strain to hear.  
  
"Your birthday?" Blair prompted as he carefully took the cup of coffee from  
her hands.  
  
"W-We were going to celebrate my birthday." Her voice grew stronger, and she  
wrapped her arms protectively about her body. "As well as the first month of  
our engagement. We were planning to have a candlelight dinner at home. David  
said he has a surprise for me. I was going to surprise him as well."  
  
A wistful smile crossed her face. "It was the happiest day of my life. He was  
so excited when I told him I'm pregnant. He couldn't sleep and talked non-stop  
about our baby's future. Then there was a phone call."  
  
Sara's face darkened again with grief. "I should have stopped him from going.  
I knew in my gut that something was terribly wrong when he told me he had to  
go meet Tim. He sounded so agitated. I- I should have stopped him from  
leaving."  
  
"It's not your fault, Sara." Blair argued gently. "You couldn't have known  
this was going to happen."  
  
"I knew something was wrong. But it took me so long to realise that David was  
in danger. I couldn't get to Rainier Park in time." She wiped away the tears  
spilling down her cheeks, sobbing uncontrollably again.  
  
"Sssh." Blair hugged her again. "It's not your fault. You understand, Sara?  
It isn't your fault."  
  
"Sara," Jim said gently. "Who is Tim?"  
  
"David's half-brother," she replied in a quivering voice.  
  
"Do you know why Tim wanted to meet him in the middle of the night?"  
  
Sara shook her head. "I didn't even know he was in town until David told me  
before he...left."  
  
Anguish clouded her face again. Turning away, she buried her face in Blair's  
chest. "I want to go home."  
  
Blair looked askance at Jim.  
  
"We'll give you a lift home," the detective offered. "Where do you stay?"  
  
The answer came in a weary whisper. "1014, Mercy Avenue."  
  
* * *  
  
It had finally stopped drizzling as the blue-and white truck made its way  
through the city of Cascade, heading towards Mercy Avenue. But the sky was  
still grey and overcast, a fitting counterpart to the sorrowing mood inside  
the vehicle.  
  
Jim concentrated on his driving, but he was keenly aware of the silence. Blair,  
in his usual shotgun seat, was not talking, deep in his own thoughts as he  
absently ate his croissant. Sara, riding in the back, was withdrawn and filled  
with so much pain that it simply made Jim's heart ached.  
  
"We're here," he announced as he pulled his truck up in front of the apartment  
building.  
  
He glanced in the rear view mirror to check on Sara and froze when he saw the  
bat again. This time it nestled upside-down beside the heartbroken woman, its  
big black eyes staring unflinchingly at him. Jim whipped around to double check,  
but the bat was gone.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
Jim met his Guide's puzzled look. "Nothing, Chief. Let's get her home."  
  
Shrugging mentally, Blair got down from the truck. He was not about to push  
his Sentinel if it wasn't urgent. If he did, Jim could be a real pain in the  
ass. He would tell what was bothering him in his own good time. Blair frowned  
as he opened the back door of the truck and Sara didn't even stir. Her gaze  
was blank as she remained as she was, cheek resting against the cushion of  
the seat.  
  
"Sara?" Blair gently shook her.  
  
She did not respond. Exchanging a worried glance with Jim, Blair shook her  
harder.  
  
"Sara? Sara! Snap out of it."  
  
"Hm-what?" Sara gave a start and blinked owlishly, still somewhat disoriented.  
"Where-?"  
  
"We're here, at Mercy Avenue." Blair explained patiently.  
  
He watched as she seemed to orient herself through her other senses. Something  
about her behaviour nagged at his mind, but right now with the death of his  
friend and her well-being weighing heavily on his mind, he didn't have the  
energy to explore the mystery.  
  
"Come on, we'll see you up." He placed Sara's free hand on his arm and gently  
guided her down from the truck. "Careful now."  
  
Sara accepted his guidance gratefully as she felt her way to the pavement, her  
white cane tapping lightly on the ground. With Blair escorting the blind law  
student to her home, Jim was contented to stay a little way back.  
  
His footsteps slowed when he felt unfriendly eyes on his back. The sensation  
lasted less than a moment but Jim was too much of a cop to dismiss the  
hostility directed at his back. Casually, he looked around at the neighbourhood.  
He didn't linger on anything specific as he scanned his surrounding, letting  
his Sentinel abilities to probe for anything out of the usual.  
  
But there was nothing to be found. Either the perp was too good at hiding  
himself, or he was long gone.  
  
Jim turned and slowly entered the building, all his senses on the alert. He  
briefly wondered if it had something to do with David's murder, and decided to  
keep that possibility in mind. Perhaps an account of David's activities for  
the past few days might helped shed some light on this.  
  
In the elevator, Blair whispered Sentinel-soft. "Is everything all right, Jim?"  
  
Jim gave him a thumbs-up, not wanting to let Sara know about the incident.  
  
"Does it have something to do with that dagger-between-my-shoulders feeling I  
had just now?" Sara asked suddenly.  
  
Both Jim and Blair stared at her. Sara frowned, feeling their stares.  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"You weren't supposed to hear that," Blair pointed out.  
  
"Sorry. I can't help it. My hearing is far better than most people who can  
see. Beside you weren't whispering that softly anyway." Sara cocked her head  
slightly. "You did feel those unfriendly eyes, right, Detective?"  
  
"Yes," Jim admitted, still staring at her. "Did you have any problems in this  
neighbourhood lately?"  
  
"No, this is a relatively peaceful neighbourhood. Unless you count the  
quarrelsome couple living one floor above. They pick the worst time to  
quarrel." Sara frowned slightly. "There was the attempted robbery at the  
grocery shop across the road that I heard. I called in the police, and the  
robbers were arrested."  
  
"When was that?"  
  
"One to two weeks ago, I think."  
  
"Anything else?" Jim pressed.  
  
Sara started to shake her head, but hesitated. "I did get the feeling that I  
was being watched several times in the past week. I could be wrong."  
  
"If the feeling is like anything I felt out there, then you can't be wrong."  
Jim said as the elevator pinged softly and the door slid open.  
  
Jim stifled at once, nostrils flaring as he detected the smell. Between them,  
Sara gasped and shrank away from the lift opening, rising her arms as though  
to protect herself.  
  
"Jim? Sara?" Blair asked, noticing their reaction. He reached out and steadied  
the shaken student.  
  
"I smell blood." Jim pulled out his gun and tossed his cell phone to Blair.  
"Call it in."  
  
"Right." Blair hastily patched the call through, using the speed dial.  
  
Jim moved swiftly down the long corridor, quiet like the panther that was his  
Spirit Guide. His gun held aloft, he padded cautiously to where the scent of  
blood was originating from. His eyes never stop scanning the number on the  
apartment doors.  
  
He paused when he reached apartment 1014 - Sara's home. Listening, he heard a  
weak heartbeat within, as well as shallow painful breathing.  
  
Damn.  
  
* * *  
  
"The police are on their way," Blair said as he shut the cell phone. He glanced  
at Sara as he put it away and took a double take. "Sara?"  
  
Sara did not answer. She simply stared at the lift opening, which Blair had  
jammed it, with that shell-shocked expression he recognised from back at the  
campus. Blair was alarmed to notice that she had stopped breathing.  
  
"Oh, shit!" The realisation rapidly dawned on Blair. "Sara? Sara! Can you hear  
me?" Blair shook her none too gently. "Come on, Sara. You got to snap out of  
this. It won't do you or the baby any good if you stopped breathing."  
  
The commotion of Jim kicking down a door made Sara jumped a feet into the air.  
She gasped, dropping her white cane to cover her ears with her hands.  
  
"Are you all right?" Blair asked anxiously.  
  
She nodded, panting too much to speak. She did not remove her hands from her  
ears.  
  
"Sara, I want you to take a deep breath to calm yourself." Blair said as  
calmly as he could. "As deep as-"  
  
"SANDBURG!" Jim's roar shattered the silence in the corridor, causing Sara to  
wince in pain. "Call the paramedics! Now!"  
  
"I'm on it!" Blair yelled back, hastily pulling out the cell phone again. Then  
he saw Sara stepping out of the elevator, her hands outreached in a groping  
manner. "Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea, Sara. Why don't you stay  
here with me? It's - Hello, 911?"  
  
Sara didn't hear Blair's advice. She slowly but surely walked down the corridor,  
one hand trailing lightly along the wall. Blair nervously poked his head out,  
rapidly scanning the corridor for any signs of danger at the same time he  
requested for paramedics.  
  
"Right. That's right...In five minutes? Can you hurry up?...All right. Thanks."  
Blair shut the cell phone and, scooping up the forgotten white cane, he  
hurried after Sara.  
  
The door to her apartment was smashed wide open, the lock tore out of the wood.  
She would need a new door but that was the least of Blair's concern right now.  
  
"Jim?" he called as they cautiously entered her apartment.  
  
"In here, Chief. The bedroom."  
  
Sara walked unerringly towards the bedroom she once shared with David. Blair  
peered into the bedroom and blanched.  
  
"Oh God," he muttered.  
  
Jim was kneeling down beside a blond man sitting upright against the wall  
beneath the window. Coat discarded on the floor, wearing his grey T-shirt, Jim  
was pressing his flannel shirt firmly to the man's bleeding side. The blond  
man was badly wounded. From the look on his glistening pale face and shallow,  
painful breathing, Blair didn't think he would live for any much longer.  
  
Blair hurried over towards them. "Oh man, Jim. Is he going to be all right?"  
  
"Not unless the paramedics get here fast," Jim replied grimly.  
  
"They said five minutes."  
  
"Not fast enough. He's almost gone." Jim probed the man's body with his  
sensitive fingers. "His blood's black. A bullet must have ruptured his liver."  
  
"Tim?" the name was said in a shocked voice.  
  
Both Sentinel and Guide turned to see Sara standing before them. In their  
concern for the dying man, they had forgotten about her.  
  
"This is David's brother?" Jim asked.  
  
"Yes." Sara felt her way to Tim's side and knelt down. She took his bloody  
hand. It was cold and clammy. "Tim? What happened to you? Where are you hurt?  
Answer me!"  
  
"Sara," Tim croaked. "I'm sorry...about...David. I shouldn't have..." he broke  
off on a gasp of pain.  
  
"Sssh," Sara tried her best to remain calm even as she ran her hands over his  
body as gently as she could. "Don't talk now. The ambulance is coming. Just stay  
with me, okay? Please?"  
  
"Everything's...all right now...Sara." Tim gasped painfully. "Promise me...you  
will live...for...for the baby's sake."  
  
"I promise you." Sara's voice quivered, her tears falling again. She held his  
hand tightly in hers. "Please, Tim. Stay with me. I don't want you to die as  
well. I can't take it anymore."  
  
"Sorry...sis."  
  
"Tim? Tim!" Sara cried in a panicked voice. "Stay awake, do you hear me?!  
Please!"  
  
"Sara," Jim gently grasped her by her shoulders, "he's dead."  
  
"No," she moaned. She doubled over, hugging Tim's body. "No!"  
  
Blair wrapped his arms about her sobbing form. He said nothing, but under the  
circumstances there was nothing he could say. He looked at Jim with despairing  
eyes. His sadness was mirrored in the detective's eyes and clenching jaws.  
Wordlessly, Jim clasped a hand on Sara's shoulder.  
  
* * *  
  
Lunch hour was just about over when Captain Simon Banks finally saw Jim stepped  
into the bullpen of Major Crimes from his office window. He studied the Chinese  
woman walking by his best detective's side, one free hand on Jim's arm and the  
other tapping her white cane, feeling her way through the bullpen.  
  
That has to be Sara Chang, the one who found her fiancee's body and witnessed  
the death of her future brother-in-law. The trauma was telling on her, he  
could see. It was the middle of the day, and already she looked like she had  
spent a lifetime on a battlefield.  
  
Simon watched with a small smile as Jim solicitously directed her to his desk and  
thoughtfully pulled up a comfortable chair for her. He noted as the detective  
gave the parcel sitting on his desk a cursory glance before turning his  
attention back to the poor woman.  
  
He never thought he would see this side of Jim - warm and caring. Not the cold  
son-of-a-bitch that first joined his department. For the countless time, Simon  
blessed the presence of a certain Anthropology student who had helped thawed  
the human iceberg and rekindled his soul. Not that he would admit it to his  
face, of course. Simon does have a reputation to keep.  
  
Simon waited until he caught Jim's gaze and beckoned him to enter. Jim nodded.  
He turned to say something to Sara before making his way over to his office.  
  
"You wanted to see me, sir?"  
  
"Close the door," Simon said as he reached for the two plain brown folders on  
his desk and gave it to Jim. "Preliminary reports on the campus murder have  
just came from the lab." He frowned as he noted the empty spot beside the  
detective. "Where's Sandburg?"  
  
Jim didn't looked up fro his perusal of the report. "He went to get some lunch  
for us. He'll be back soon. There's nothing much in this report, Simon.  
Nothing that would help us, except for the DNA typing on the strand of hair I  
found. But it's useless without someone to match it with."  
  
"The head of the university called," Simon said. "He wants to know what we are  
doing to solve the case."  
  
"I'm doing everything I can, Simon. But it will take time."  
  
"Hopefully before the murderer could strike again."  
  
"You got it, sir. Anything else?"  
  
Simon glanced out of his office window again. Sara was seated by Jim's desk,  
completely motionless. Blair had bounced into the bullpen, holding a stack of  
Chinese takeout boxes. He went straight for Jim's desk.  
  
"I did some checking on this Timothy Street like you asked me too," Simon  
began. "Turns out he has got quite a record with the police department and the  
FBI. Suspected of at least forty cat burglaries across the Northwest states.  
All involved very wealthy people with very expensive tastes. His list ran from  
cash to jewellery that worth fortunes to priceless paintings. He was never  
caught. The man took the art of cat burglary to a whole new level."  
  
Jim stared at him incredulously, looked out of the office at Sara, and turned  
back to Simon. "And he's Sara's future brother-in-law?"  
  
Simon shrugged, as if saying heavens-knows. "So what happened at Sara Chang's  
apartment?"  
  
Jim ran a hand through his buzz cut. "Well, Timothy Street broke into their  
apartment and died in their bedroom. Forensics are still going over the place  
for any signs of scuffle, but I don't think there was one."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, no furniture was overturned when I went in. The only thing amiss was  
the open window in their bedroom. From the trail of blood on the fire escape  
outside the window, it's probably where Tim broke into their apartment."  
  
"Why the hell would he want to do that?"  
  
"I have my guesses," Jim started to reply when a knock on the door interrupted  
him.  
  
Blair poked his head in. His smile was a trifle uncertain. "Hi, Simon. Umm,  
am I interrupting anything?"  
  
"Not at all," Simon answered. "Come on in."  
  
"What's wrong, Chief?" Jim asked, noticing the slight increase in his Guide's  
heartbeat.  
  
"I'll explain later." Blair slipped into the office and took up his usual  
position beside Jim. He was holding a large brown envelope and a smaller white  
one in his hands.  
  
Puzzled but assured, Jim continued with his report. "Sara said that Tim called  
them last night and asked to meet David in Rainier Park. Now my guess is they  
had some kind of meeting at Rainier Park. But things didn't went according to  
plan. From the lack of evidence of a fight in the park, I believe David was  
ambushed by a third party before Tim arrived."  
  
"So where does Tim Street's murder fit into all these?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe Tim witnessed David's murder and fled. The murderer went  
after him to silence him."  
  
"Do you think they were involved in some kind of crimes?" Simon asked.  
  
"It's a possibility, now that we know about Tim's past but..."Jim hesitated.  
"Something doesn't feel right. Like we are missing something from the picture."  
  
"You bet we are."  
  
It was the way Blair said it that got the complete attention of his Sentinel  
and the captain.  
  
"Do you know something that we don't, Sandburg?" Simon asked.  
  
"Yeah." Blair glanced furtively at Sara, then lowered his voice. "Hang on a  
minute."  
  
Both Jim and Simon watched quizzically as Blair switched on a slim black device  
and placed it on Simon's desk.  
  
"The white-noise generator? Sandburg, why do we need that for?" Jim demanded.  
"I'm not having any problems with my hearing."  
  
"It's for Sara's benefit," replied Blair.  
  
"Huh?" Jim was confused.  
  
"Why don't you start from somewhere we can understand?" Simon asked in a tone  
that said it was not a request.  
  
"Right." Blair glanced once last time at Sara still seated at Jim's desk, not  
touching the box of Chinese takeout before her. "Remember the parcel you told  
me someone left here for me, Simon?"  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"It was from David Street. And guess what was inside? A stack of journals all  
filled with notes on sentinels and guides."  
  
Jim tensed.  
  
"Are you sure?" he forced himself to ask calmly.  
  
Blair nodded so vigorously that his hair fell in all directions. "100 percent  
certain. And that's not it. He knows about my thesis. He even wrote me a  
letter explaining it. Here, read it."  
  
Jim took the white envelope Blair passed it to him. His Guide's name was  
written on the front in firm hand. Opening it, he pulled out the single sheet  
of foolscap and quickly unfolded it.  
  
* * *  
  
Dear Mr Sandburg,  
  
I have always knew if I ever wrote this letter, it means that I am unable to  
protect my Sentinel any longer. In the past week, I have felt danger closing  
in, and I realised soon I have to do what it takes to keep her safe. I also  
knew if this happens, I will not be around to Guide her anymore. She will need  
a new Guide, at least temporary, until she can finds the one thing that will  
keep her anchored.  
  
A few years back, I stumbled across Richard Burton's monograph on the 'Sentinels'.  
It got me interested and I began to dig further. My research led me to the few  
papers you have published on the topic, and I realised here was someone who  
understood my passion. I made up my mind to come to Cascade to make your  
acquaintance, to learn from you. I must admit that I regarded our coming  
acquaintance with great trepidation. I was afraid you would think of me as nuts.  
I even wondered why an intelligent anthropologist like you would be interested  
in such an obscure field. But when I first saw you during lecture, it became  
all too clear to me. You have found your Sentinel, and have became his  
Guide (don't worry about your Sentinel's identity. I'm carrying that secret to  
my grave).  
  
Your status as a Guide made me more determined to find a Sentinel whom I can  
based my research on. I knew it would be difficult, but I didn't realised just  
how difficult. I had given up all hope of ever finding one when I stumbled  
upon a Chinese law student standing in the middle of Cascade Park, completely  
zoned out. When I managed to pull her out of the zone-out, I was excited  
beyond words. She was the real thing.  
  
To my delight, I discovered that Sara is a full-fledged Sentinel. All her four  
senses are enhanced, even her sight was enhanced before she was blinded by a  
fire when she was ten. In fact, her blindness only sharpened her other senses.  
Sara did nothing to hide her sensitive senses. In fact, she DOES NOT know she  
is a Sentinel. She, like those around her, accepted the phenomenon as  
compensating for her blindness. And I will prefer to keep it a secret even  
from her. She does not need to know what would only cause her greater grief.  
  
I confess that I had ulterior motives when I made friends with Sara. But all  
that changed when I fell in love with her. She is the most wonderful person  
I've ever known. When I'm with her, I feel completed. It's like she is the  
other half of my soul. She is always there for me, and I for her.  
  
But not this time.  
  
A man by the name of Peter Morgan is out to destroy her life. And he will not  
stop until she is broken, humiliated and dead. I have arranged everything, so  
Sara would be safe. My only worry is that she may no longer have a Guide when  
this is over.  
  
Sara is vulnerable to zone-outs. Without her Guide to anchor her, I fear she  
may unwittingly hurt herself. She will need all the help she can get, and you're  
the only one I know of who can help her. I have gathered up all my research  
material and placed them in the box. You will find what you need to know to  
help her.  
  
Mr Sandburg, I'm not asking you to abandon your Sentinel - I don't believe any  
Guide can do that - but I'm begging you, please be there for her when she needs  
someone.  
  
Yours Sincerely,  
David Street.  
  
PS Please burn this letter after you have read it. It would not do to have  
it fall into the wrong hands.  
  
* * *  
  
Jim was silent as he passed the letter over to Simon. The captain's face grew  
grim as he read it.  
  
"I have my suspicions about Sara," Blair said quietly, "when I saw all the  
telltale symptoms. But I thought she just had one or two senses enhanced,  
that's all."  
  
"At least I know I'm not going crazy," Jim added with some relief. "I saw her  
Spirit Guide twice today."  
  
"You did?' Blair's excitement grew. "When? Oh - in the truck when we reached  
her apartment, right?"  
  
Jim nodded. "And inside the campus clinic as well." He smiled wryly. "I thought  
my sight was going haywire. Thank God I'm not seeing things."  
  
"What kind of animal is her Spirit Guide?"  
  
"A bat."  
  
Blair stared at him. "You're kidding?"  
  
"Dead serious, Chief."  
  
"A bat?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
Blair looked confused. "I've never come across any references of bat being a  
Spirit Guide before."  
  
"I wouldn't know about that," Jim shrugged. "It's your field after all."  
  
"This letter doesn't explain why a Peter Morgan is out to destroy her life,"  
Simon complained, oblivious to their exchange.  
  
Blair suddenly remembered the big brown envelope he was holding and passed  
it to Simon. "Maybe this would help."  
  
Simon scowled when he pulled out a set of black-and-white photos. "Shit."  
  
Blair's eyes widened when he saw the photos and recognised them for what they  
were. Someone had been photographing Sara and David as they made love in their  
apartment.  
  
Jim's jaws began to clench as he looked through the photographs. "This looks  
like blackmail."  
  
"But why?" Blair asked. "They don't have enemies."  
  
"Sara must have crossed somebody unwittingly. I think I can put together what  
happened. But I'll need to confirm some details with Sara. Simon, may I-"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
As Jim went to get Sara, Blair hastily switched off the white-noise generator  
and pocketed it. Jim returned shortly, guiding Sara into Simon's office.  
  
"Sara, I like you to meet my Captain, Simon Banks."  
  
"Hello," Sara greeted.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Chang. Have a seat."  
  
"Thank you," Sara said as she sat down beside Simon's desk.  
  
Jim pulled up a chair and settled down opposite her. "Sara," he began, "do  
you know anyone by the name of Peter Morgan?"  
  
"No, I don't think so." Sara replied slowly. "Wait...I remember now. A week  
ago, he accosted me in the campus cafeteria."  
  
"What did he want from you?"  
  
"He told me that he was the elder brother of Gene Morgan, one of the robbers  
who was arrested for the grocery store hold-up across my apartment. He said  
he wasn't happy with me for alerting the police to the robbery." Sara frowned.  
"He called me a meddling bitch."  
  
"Did he threaten you in any way?" Simon asked.  
  
"He said he would make me pay for what I did to his brother. I'm afraid I got  
angry and told him off. It seemed to do some good because I didn't hear from  
him."  
  
"Sara," Blair asked, "can you describe him?"  
  
Simon frowned incredulously at him. "Sandburg, she's blind."  
  
"Being blind doesn't mean she can't describe a person, Simon. Not visually, of  
course, but in other manners which are just as accurate. In fact-"  
  
"Ammonia," the whisper put an end to Blair's impending lecture.  
  
Jim tensed, knowing instantly what she was talking about. "Can you elaborate,Sara?"  
  
"Morgan. H-his scent is overlaid by ammonia. I remembered the smell from our  
encounter." Sara wrung her fingers agitatedly as the truth hit her like a  
truck at full speed. "It's the same scent I found in the park last night! My  
God, he killed David! He murdered my fiancee!"  
  
* * *  
  
"How could I be so blind?!" Sara ranted in the break room.  
  
Jim and Blair had told her of their findings minus the Sentinel issue. It had  
upset her terribly. She wasn't quite pacing the break room, but the few strides  
she took back and fro betrayed her anger and agitation.  
  
"I should have known that Morgan wouldn't give it up so easily. Hell, I should  
have seen it! David wasn't quite himself for the past few days. He told me  
that he was worried about his coming exams, but I know him too well to know  
that was not it. I should have press further."  
  
Blair stepped into her path and firmly clasped her by her arms. "Sara, stop  
kicking yourself for something you possible couldn't have foreseen."  
  
"I should have known," she shot back. "When Morgan threatened me, he meant  
every word of it. I just dismissed it. Don't you get it, Blair? David died  
because he was trying to protect me from something I could have prevented!"  
  
She wiped away angry tears. "Some kind of D.A. I'll be. Can't even protect  
the one I love more than my life."  
  
Blair gazed at her with deep compassion and understanding. A Sentinel is  
always a Sentinel. Her instincts to protect are as strong as Jim's.  
Impulsively, he hugged her tightly.  
  
"We'll get the bastard, Sara. I promise you that."  
  
"But it won't bring David back," she said heart-brokenly.  
  
"I know," Blair sighed. "I know."  
  
* * *  
  
"We know Peter Morgan is the elder brother of Gene Morgan who was arrested in  
that grocery store robbery across Sara's apartment," Jim began as he paced in  
Simon's office. "He's a bully, arrogant and violent, and threatened Sara. But  
when Sara stood up to him, he began to harass her. David must have intercepted  
all his harassing and kept it a secret from her. But when Morgan wanted to  
blackmail them with the photographs, David decided to take things into his own  
hands. He contacted his brother who was an accomplished cat burglar, probably  
to steal the photographs. But things went wrong. Somehow Morgan found out about  
the theft and their meeting place and had the both of them murdered."  
  
"Sounds like we got all the pieces together," Simon noted. "But we will need  
evidence to put the guy away."  
  
"I'm right on it, Simon. Morgan works at Joe's construction company, which  
probably explained why he smells of ammonia. I'm going to check out his  
workplace as well as his apartment."  
  
"Keep me informed, Jim."  
  
"Will do, sir."  
  
Jim left Simon's office and walked over to the coat-stand to pick up his dark  
blue coat, just as Blair led Sara back into the bullpen.  
  
"Chief," he called as he made his way over to them.  
  
"You've found Morgan?" Blair asked expectedly.  
  
"Not really, but I got his address."  
  
"Where is it?" Sara asked quickly.  
  
"Cascade's west side."  
  
"Then what are we waiting for?" she demanded. "Let's go."  
  
"No," Jim said emphatically. "I'm going. You will stay here where it's safe."  
  
"What?" Sara was outraged. "Detective -"  
  
"Miss Chang," Jim began in that voice Blair knew all too well. The big guy  
wasn't going to budge an inch. "This is police business. The confrontation  
will most probably be dangerous. If anything happens to you, we won't have  
any witness to help us put him behind bars. Do you understand me?"  
  
Sara didn't looked happy with his irrefutable logic. "Don't let him get away,  
Detective."  
  
"I won't. Chief, you stay here with Sara."  
  
"No problem," Blair replied. "Be careful, okay?"  
  
Jim suddenly flashed a lopsided grin at him. "Isn't that my line?"  
  
"Ha, ha." Blair rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Jim."  
  
* * *  
  
It was nearly dusk when Jim's blue-and-white truck pulled up in a slum  
neighbourhood.  
  
He had made an unsuccessful trip to Joe's construction company. Morgan wasn't  
there. The foreman had told him that Morgan hadn't reported for work for two  
days. Which left Jim one other place to look for the suspected murderer - his  
apartment.  
  
Black Jag cap pulled low to block out the late afternoon sun, Jim made his way  
across the dirty pavement towards a rather disreputable-looking building. He  
took the elevator up to the third floor where Morgan was staying.  
  
"Peter Morgan?" Jim knocked loudly on the door. "Cascade PD. Open up."  
  
There was dead silence for a moment. Then Jim's Sentinel hearing detected  
the distinct sounds of someone scrambling madly towards the window. His  
instincts reared at once, recognising the sounds of someone trying to escape.  
Stepping back from the door, he kicked it down and rushed in, just in time  
to see a burly man disappearing down the fire escape outside the window.  
  
Jim gave chase without hesitation. Peter Morgan was a man in his early twenties,  
twice his size and fast. But Jim, Covert Ops trained, was very fit and just as  
fast. He chased the man down the fire escape and through the alley.  
  
"Freeze!" he yelled at the suspect, half doubting that the man would slow  
down.  
  
To his surprise, Morgan did. He stood in the middle of the alley, back facing  
him and hands raised above his head. Jim approached him cautiously, not  
trusting the man's willingness to co-operate for a single moment.  
  
"Turn around," Jim ordered.  
  
And Morgan did, with surprising swiftness.  
  
Jim caught a glimpse of a cruel face before a steel pipe slammed across his  
face with lethal force. Pinwheeling backwards, Jim crumpled to the ground,  
feeling his sense of balance all shot to hell. Through the haze of pain and  
disorientation in his head, he dimly sensed Morgan advancing towards him,  
readying to deliver the fatal blow. With a desperate burst of strength, Jim  
kicked his legs out from under him. He struggled to get up before Morgan  
could kill him, but instead he fell into darkness.  
  
* * *  
  
Back at the bullpen, Blair fidgeted and paced about Jim's desk. He was going  
to wear a rut in the floor with all this pacing, but Blair didn't give a damn.  
The night shift had just began, but there was still no word from his Sentinel.  
He couldn't shake the dread in his stomach. Something had happened to Jim, he  
was sure of it. He could barely resist the urge to charge out there and look  
for him. But he didn't dare to leave Sara here untended.  
  
Blair stopped in his pacing and looked into Simon's office. Sara was sleeping  
on the couch inside his office. The captain had very graciously allowed the  
blind law student to make use of couch to catch some much needed rest. Curled  
up on the couch, she looked younger and vulnerable in the Rainier sweater and  
jeans she wore, despite the traces of fatigue and sorrow marking her face.  
  
"Sandburg." Simon, just back from a meeting, walked through the bullpen towards  
him. "Have you heard from Jim yet?"  
  
"No, and that's what worries me. It shouldn't take this long to catch the guy,  
right?"  
  
Simon sighed deeply. "Hard to say. Perhaps Morgan proved to be more elusive  
than we thought."  
  
"No." Blair chewed his lower lip as a worried frown marred his forehead.  
"Something's happened to Jim. I know it. Look, Simon, I'm going out to find  
Jim. When Sara wakes up, just tell her I'll be out-"  
  
"No," Simon said flatly.  
  
"Simon-" Blair began to protest.  
  
"I'll go look for Jim, Sandburg. You stay here with her." Simon lowered his  
voice. "If what David says is true, she needs you right now."  
  
Every instinct Blair possessed protested at the arrangement, but he knew Simon  
had a point.  
  
"All right," he said reluctantly. "Call me when you've found him, okay?"  
  
"I will." Simon turned to leave when a thought occurred to him. "Sandburg, have  
you burn that letter yet?"  
  
Blair blinked. "No, not yet."  
  
"Better do it soon."  
  
"Right."  
  
As Simon walked out of the bullpen, Blair went over to Jim's desk and took the  
letter from within the box of David's journals.  
  
When Sara was there before her nap, she had asked rather bluntly whether it  
belonged to David. There was no way he could blatantly lie to her - David's  
scent was all over the box, and he knew his accelerated heartbeat would be a  
dead give away. He assured her that it was full of research material David  
owed him for a long time.  
  
Blair read the letter again, trying to memorise every nuances and meanings  
within it.  
  
A full-fledged Sentinel.  
  
Blair still couldn't believe it. And neither could he get over the fact that  
how well David had hid the secret from everybody, including Sara and himself.  
It was a testimony to David's keen insight that he could recognised Blair as  
a Guide, not the other way round.  
  
If only he had known earlier...  
  
With a profound sense of regret, Blair took out the lighter Jim kept in his  
drawer and held the letter to the flame. He watched the letter burned, as each  
word smoked and blackened into carbon. Very soon, the letter was nothing more  
than just ashes in the metal waste paper basket.  
  
"Blair?"  
  
He turned to see Sara standing at the door of Simon's office, tapping her way  
to Jim's desk with her white cane. He stood and guided her to the seat he just  
vacated.  
  
"Slept well?" he asked.  
  
"Not really," Sara admitted. "I keep seeing David's face. Is Detective Ellison  
back yet?"  
  
"No," Blair sighed.  
  
Sara tilted her head imperceptibly and seemed to regard him with sightless but  
solemn eyes. Blair had this inexplicable feeling that she saw and noticed  
everything around her despite her blindness.  
  
"You're worried." It was a statement.  
  
"Nay. Jim can take care of himself." It sounded like false bravado even to his  
ears. He sighed again. Who was he kidding? "All right, I'm a little worried."  
  
"I'm sure he would be okay," Sara said.  
  
"I hope so."  
  
Sara's brows wrinkled in puzzlement as she sniffed the air. "Did a fire  
occurred here while I was napping?"  
  
"No. Someone just burned a piece of paper. It's nothing," Blair said  
dismissively. "Sara, why don't you spend the night at my loft?"  
  
"Your loft?"  
  
"It's actually Jim's loft, but we are roommates."  
  
"I wouldn't want to-"  
  
"I'm sure Jim wouldn't mind. Beside, he kicked down your front door. It's  
only right that he makes it up for you. Not to say that it's going to take  
time to repair the damage to your front door, and don't tell me you'll feel  
safe sleeping with your apartment wide open to anyone."  
  
Sara smiled. "All right. But I'll need to get a few things from my apartment."  
  
"Sure, no problem. We'll take my car," Blair enthused. He slung his backpack  
over his shoulder and, placing Sara's hand on his forearm, guided her out of  
the bullpen, talking non-stop all the while. "You can have my bed. I'll take  
the couch. And while you're staying at the loft, I got this new recipe I've  
meaning to try out for some time now..."  
  
* * *  
  
"Jim?"  
  
The voice seemed so faraway, burrowing through the blackness clouding his mind.  
Jim cracked open his eyes a slit and shut them again when glaring light  
pierced his eyes.  
  
"Simon?" he croaked.  
  
"Yeah, it's me, Jimbo. Can you open your eyes?"  
  
"Trying."  
  
Jim pictured the dial in his foggy mind and got his sight under control with   
an effort. Cautiously, he opened his eyes to see a concerned Simon hovering  
above him. He could see the police lights flashing behind his captain.  
Directly above him, the sky was dark. With a jolt, he realised he had been  
unconscious for a long time. Cradling his throbbing head, he attempted to  
rise.  
  
"What the hell happened here?" Simon asked as he helped Jim up.  
  
"Morgan got away." Jim slowly got onto his feet, swaying as a bout of  
dizziness hit him.  
  
"Slowly," Simon cautioned. "That's quite a bruise on your forehead. You might  
have a concussion."  
  
Jim winced as he felt the lump on his forehead and squinted at the police  
cars outside the alley. "What's with all the flashing lights, Simon?"  
  
"We are searching Morgan's apartment," Simon explained. "Sandburg and I were  
worried when you didn't report in. I told him to stay put and came after you.  
I found you lying in this alley knocked out cold. Do you know how long were  
you out cold?"  
  
"Looks like two to three hours," Jim guessed as he made his way over to his  
truck. "Where's Sandburg?"  
  
"Last I saw him, he was still at the station with Sara. Why?"  
  
"Morgan knows the cops are after him. He might step up his harassment on Sara.  
I need to know that they are safe."  
  
Jim pulled out his cell phone and dialled his desk number. He listened  
impatiently as his desk phone rang for a long time.  
  
"Come on, Chief. Pick it up," he muttered. Finally, he ended the call and  
dialled Blair's cell phone number.  
  
"Hello," Blair answered after the second ring.  
  
"Blair, it's Jim. Where the hell are you?"  
  
"At Sara's place. She's packing an overnight bag to spend the night at our  
loft."  
  
"Get out of there, Chief. Go straight to the loft as quickly as you can.  
Morgan's loose and he knows the cops are after him."  
  
In her bedroom, Sara suddenly froze in the midst of zipping up her carrier  
bag and stiffened. She heard and recognised the heartbeat of the person  
approaching her apartment, and smelled the give away scent of ammonia.  
  
Fear clutched her heart as she all but ran into the living room where Blair  
was, talking to Jim on his cell phone. She grabbed hold of his arm and started  
to pull him unceremoniously into the bedroom.  
  
"What? Wait-" he yelped in surprise.  
  
"No time," she answered tersely. "He's here."  
  
"Who?" Then understanding dawned on Blair. "Oh, shit. Jim?"  
  
"Yeah?" came the tense voice on the other line of his cell phone.  
  
"You better get down here fast, man. Morgan's here."  
  
"I'm on my way, Chief. Just get out of the apartment."  
  
"Right." Blair shut his cell phone and ran into Sara's bedroom towards the  
fire escape. "Sara, let's go."  
  
"Wait a minute." Sara pulled open a drawer in her vanity desk and took out a  
silver barrelled gun. Pocketing it, she made her way to the window. "Now we  
can go."  
  
Clambering out of the window, Blair and Sara climbed down the fire escape as  
silently and quickly as they could. A gunshot ricocheted off the metal railing,  
causing them to duck instinctively and abandoned stealth.  
  
"Go! Go! Go!" Blair yelled, pushing Sara ahead of him. Covering Sara as best  
as he could with his body, he swiftly guided her down the fire escape. Reaching  
the ground, they ran wildly through the alley hand in hand.  
  
"Run, bitch!" taunted the voice above them. "You can't hide from me! You'll  
get what you deserved!"  
  
"I hate him," Sara growled.  
  
There was so much venom in her voice that it startled Blair. He didn't see  
the pothole in his momentary lapse of attention. Losing his footing and  
balance, he tripped and fell heavily to the ground.  
  
Sara was immediately by his side. "You all right, Blair?"  
  
"Yeah," Blair gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain in his right ankle  
and tried to stand. He yelped in pain as his right leg crumpled under his  
weight. "No. I think I twisted my ankle."  
  
Sara glanced back the way they came from when she heard the footsteps  
clattering down the fire escape. Without hesitation, she slung one of Blair's  
arms over her shoulders.  
  
They hobbled for a short distance before Blair's twisted ankle protested again  
and he fell, pulling Sara down with him. He let out an uncharacteristic curse.  
  
"Get up, Blair." Sara urged.  
  
"You go ahead. I'll only slow you down."  
  
"Blair-"  
  
"He's after you, not me. You'll have a better chance of getting out of here  
alive without me."  
  
"What makes you think he won't go after you too?" Sara shot back in  
frustration. "Damn it! I won't lose another one I loved!"  
  
"This is about you, not me. Look, I'll be all right. Go before he catches you!"  
  
Sara took a deep breath and forcibly calmed herself down. "You're right,  
Blair. This is about me."  
  
Blair watched in dawning horror as she ran back the way they came from, her  
white cane swinging wildly in her hand.  
  
"That isn't what I meant," he protested belatedly. "Sara!"  
  
But she was gone.  
  
Mustering his strength, grasping the wall for support, Blair pulled himself  
up onto his feet. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his ankle and  
limped painfully after Sara.  
  
"Damned, ow, Sentinels and their, ouch, Blessedd Protector's, owch, instincts."  
  
* * *  
  
Sara had never been so afraid before in her whole life. She thought nothing  
could beat the fire that had trapped her in her bedroom and blinded her, but  
she was wrong. Being chased by a maniac for something she wasn't directly  
responsible for was just as terrifying.  
  
Her breath coming in shallow gasps, Sara clung to the building wall and tried  
to get her bearing again. Far behind her and coming closer, she could hear the  
sound of her would-be killer's heartbeat.  
  
"Where are you, bitch?!" came the angry shout, causing her to drop her white  
cane in fright. He sounded so close and so loud.  
  
Panic spiked through her, driving her to flee helter-skelter down the quiet  
street. She stumbled and bumped into things, creating a din that deafened her.  
Hands clapped tightly over her ears, she kept running. In her fear-induced  
flight, she tripped on the curb and tumbled to the ground, landing heavily on  
her arm. For the first time in her life, she cursed herself for her blindness.  
  
"Blind bitch, you should have never called the police." Sara was surprised to  
hear him further away than before. "Nobody mess with the Morgans and get away  
with it."  
  
Where the hell was he? she thought frantically. How could he sound so near in  
one instant and so far in the next?  
  
Climbing back to her feet, Sara groped blindly for some kind of support. Her  
fingers curled around the pole of a parking meter. The cold metal surface  
beneath her sweating fingers shocked her out of her panic. For a moment, she  
simply stood there and listened to Morgan's heartbeat in the distance. Then  
she heard two more heartbeats, beating together in unison. Calmness descended  
upon her as she felt the reassuring shape of her gun in her pocket.  
  
She knew what she had to do.  
  
Sara clapped her hands once sharply and listened to the echoes of her clap  
bouncing off her surrounding. It was a technique that David taught her during  
one of their many exploratory trips about their neighbourhood, how to use her  
hearing to monitor her location.  
  
Quickly, she got her bearing back again as she sketched a quick mental picture  
of her neighbourhood. In her mind's eyes, she saw the condemned apartment  
building just across the road. She also heard Morgan running towards her from  
a distance away, having heard her clap.  
  
Sara stood there, waiting for Morgan to spot her. When she heard his heartbeat  
suddenly accelerated, she knew he was in sight. Confidently, she stepped off  
the pavement and dashed across the road towards the condemned apartment  
building.  
  
* * *  
  
Blair never knew limping could be so slow and painful. It took long precious  
minutes just to complete the long distance of the alley. By the time he was  
out of the alley, he was bathed in sweat and panting with the painful exercise.  
  
Sagging against a building wall in his exhaustion, he anxiously scanned the  
dark road for any signs of Sara. His heart jumped for joy when he saw the  
blue-and-white truck parked haphazardly up the street in front of Sara's  
apartment building.  
  
"Jim," he whispered, knowing that his Sentinel would be tuning all his  
senses to finding him. "I'm in the alley across the road, a few blocks down  
from where you are."  
  
"I know," came the whisper behind him.  
  
Blair whirled around, his heart in his throat. The detective emerged from the  
shadows, gun in hand, and stood protectively next to his Guide.  
  
"Geez, Jim. You almost gave me a heart attack."  
  
"You all right?" Jim asked in concern when he saw Blair favouring his right  
leg.  
  
"Just twisted my ankle. Where did you get that bruise?"  
  
"Morgan. Where's Sara?"  
  
"She went to confront him."  
  
"What?" Jim was incredulous. "What did you say to her?"  
  
"Nothing," Blair protested. "I told her to leave me behind and run, but she  
misunderstood."  
  
"She's a Sentinel, Chief. A Blessed Protector."  
  
"And I'm a Guide." The realisation dawned quickly on Blair. "Damn, her  
subconscious must have known and she sought to protect me."  
  
"Do you have any idea where she might be, Chief?"  
  
"No." Blair snapped his fingers suddenly. "But you can track her down by  
listening for her heartbeat."  
  
Jim gave him a withering look. "Blair, it's not so simple. I can track you  
down by your heartbeat because you're my Guide. Sara's heartbeat is completely  
new to me."  
  
"But she's pregnant. Listen for two heartbeats beating close together. One  
belonging to Sara and the other belonging to her baby."  
  
"All right. I'll give it a try."  
  
Jim turned up his hearing, just as he felt the reassuring touch of Blair's  
hand on the small of his back anchoring him. Everything became louder, clearer  
and more distinct. He found a heartbeat nearby; it was rapid. And nearer to  
that heartbeat...  
  
"What?" Blair discovered as a frown marred Jim's forehead. "Did you track her  
down?"  
  
"I think so." Then amazingly, Jim smiled. "Three heartbeats, Chief. One is  
hers, and two tiny ones beating in unison."  
  
Blair stared at him.  
  
"Twins?" he managed to get the word out. "She's carrying twins?"  
  
"That's right, Chief. And I know precisely where they are."  
  
"I'm coming with you."  
  
"Stay put, Sandburg. You're in no condition to be walking about."  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
* * *  
  
Sara knew that David had spent some of his more adventurous moods in this  
dilapidated building, exploring God knows what and basically courting death.  
From his description of the place and listening to the echoes of her clap,  
she had an idea how the building was laid out. She also knew it was completely  
dark in the building, an edge she hoped that would work in her favour. People  
who can see are very uncomfortable with being blind.  
  
The planks on the floor were rotting and there seemed to be a huge amount of  
dust. Covering her nose with a hand, she carefully made her way up the creaking  
stairs that threatened to break in the middle. Her gun was a comfortable weight  
in her hand. Below her, she heard Morgan stumbled in the darkness and cursed  
foully.  
  
"You think you're so smart, huh?" Morgan shouted. "Luring me into this building.  
Did you think I can't find you without any light, huh? Huh?! Well, you thought  
wrong, bitch! Cause' I'm going yo find you and when I do, it will be your worst  
nightmare."  
  
Sara listened from her hiding place, fighting to keep her fury down. Her hand  
which grasped her gun trembled slightly.  
  
Hunched outside the boarded window, Jim and Blair listened as well.  
  
"You should seen your lover's face when I slit his throat," Morgan continued  
in that taunting voice she was beginning to hate. "Oh, but I forgot. You can't  
see at all. Well, looks like I have to fill in the blanks for you."  
  
"I guess people like you don't have a life," Sara shouted into the gloom. It  
was an incredibly stupid thing to say, but at that point she didn't really  
care.  
  
The stairs creaked as Morgan began his climb up to the second level. "You  
really think so, bitch? Then I'll have to show you just what kind of life I  
have."  
  
Jim cautiously opened the front door and slipped inside the building. He  
turned up his Sentinel sight to compensate for the darkness. Blair followed  
close behind, trying his best to limp as quietly as possible.  
  
"Jim?" he whispered Sentinel-soft. "It's too dark in here."  
  
Wordlessly, Jim reached behind, took his hand and hooked his finger into a  
belt loop of his trousers. Together, they moved quietly through the empty  
building with the Sentinel in the lead.  
  
From the sounds of his movements, Sara knew when Morgan had reached the  
second level and was right out in the plain view. Holding her gun in both  
hands, she primed it and aimed it at him.  
  
"Don't move," she said in a quiet voice that belied her rage.  
  
Morgan stopped when he heard the click of a gun. His eyes darted about the  
place, probing the gloom, even as he sneered at her.  
  
"You're going to shoot me, blind bat? Betcha you're going to miss."  
  
In response, Sara fired one shot and grazed him in the shoulder.  
  
"Does that answer your question?" she said with deep satisfaction as the smell  
of his blood reached her nose.  
  
"Beginner's luck," Morgan said dismissively. He took a step forward but froze  
when he heard another chamber being loaded. "You're gonna kill me, bitch? Forget  
it. You haven't got the guts to do a man's job."  
  
He swung up his arm and fired off a shot, startling Sara badly. She slumped  
back against the wall in relief when she realised the bullet had missed her by  
a mile.  
  
"Cascade PD!" Jim yelled as he dashed up the stairs. "Put your gun down,  
Morgan!"  
  
Cursing a vile streak, Morgan pivoted around to open fire at Jim. But the  
detective was faster as he dropped to his knee and squeezed off a shot. Morgan's  
expression was one of astonishment as he crumpled to the dusty floor.  
  
Trailing his gun-sight on the sprawled body, Jim cautiously moved forward to  
search for his pulse. Blair edged past Jim and limped towards Sara standing  
in a corner, her gun held loosely in her hands.  
  
"You all right?" Blair asked as he gently removed the gun from her unresisting  
grasp.  
  
Sara nodded mutely, tears glistening in her eyes.  
  
"Is he-?" her voice trailed off, unable to bring herself to say the word.  
  
"Yes," Jim answered as he holstered his gun. "He won't be hurting you anymore."  
  
Sara shuddered with relief and felt her strength deserted her. Her knees  
buckled; Blair caught her before she could collapse.  
  
"Jim," he called, wincing at the pain in his twisted ankle.  
  
"I got her, Chief."  
  
The detective took the shaking figure from Blair and carried her in his arms.  
Sara wound her arms tightly about his neck as she began to cry - deep wrenching  
sobs that began the healing process.  
  
* * *  
  
It was a fine day when they buried David and Tim Street at the cemetery. The  
funeral had been a simple and quiet affair. It had attracted a huge turnout,  
mostly people from Rainier University.  
  
Throughout the service, Jim and Blair stayed close to Sara. It had been three  
weeks since the double murders. The bruise on Jim's forehead was just a slight  
discoloration now, and Blair's twisted ankle had healed completely. But their  
physical wounds were nothing compared to what Sara's pain.   
  
Then the service was over and they remained behind, looking down at the two  
freshly filled graves.  
  
Sara knelt down and placed a red rose on David's grave. She pressed her fingers  
to her lips and transferred the kiss to the grave.  
  
"I love you, David. And I'll take good care of our babies."  
  
She did the same for the other grave. "I love you too, Tim. And thank you,  
for everything."  
  
Rising, Sara turned to walk away from the graves. Both Jim and Blair fell  
into steps on either side of her.  
  
"What would you do now?" Blair asked.  
  
"I-I don't know." Sara lowered her eyes. "My sister is coming over tomorrow.  
I don't know how I'm going to live without him. But I'm going to try. Our  
babies need me."  
  
"If you need any thing at all, Sara, don't hesitate to call me."  
  
Sara smiled. "Thank you, Blair. You've been a true friend."  
  
"Hey, that's what friends are for."  
  
"And thank you, Detective Ellison."  
  
"Jim. Call me Jim. And you're welcomed. Any friend of Blair's is a friend of  
mine. If there's anything I can do-"  
  
"There's one, actually. I like to touch your face."  
  
The request caught Jim off-guard. "My face?"  
  
"Yes. It's been three weeks since I've known you, and I still have no idea  
what you look like."  
  
"What about Blair?" Jim asked, noticing his roommate trying to hide a grin.  
  
"Uh-huh. She touched my face a long time ago. She knows how I look like."  
  
"Will you let me, Jim?"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
As Jim stood still, Sara reached out to touch his face. Her fingers had barely  
grazed his cheekbones when she abruptly pulled back.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," Sara gave a small laugh of embarrassment. "For a moment there, I  
thought I was touching the fur of a cat. Probably my imagination."  
  
"Some imagination," Jim muttered as he exchanged a knowing glance with Blair.  
  
Sara tentatively ran her fingers over his face, carefully studying his face.  
It was a strange feeling, not unpleasant but intimate. For some reason, he  
could feel himself blushing. She ran her fingers over his forehead, through  
his shorn hair, over his cheeks, nose and mouth.  
  
"What colour is your hair?" she asked.  
  
"Black." Jim felt her fingers studying his ears intently.  
  
"And your eyes?"  
  
"Blue."  
  
Sara smiled when she finished her study. "You have a handsome face, Jim."  
  
"Thanks," Jim said awkwardly.  
  
"So are we still going to shop for a new door or what?" Blair asked brightly.  
  
"A new door?" Sara asked quizzically.  
  
"A new front door which can withstand several kicks, a few rounds of bullets  
and comes complete with at least three locks." Blair ticked the list off on  
his fingers. "And Jim's paying for it."  
  
"That's very nice of you, Jim."  
  
"It's the least I can do for Cascade's future D.A."  
  
* * *  
  
T H E E N D 


End file.
